


Proteek WW2 AU

by spacearcanist



Category: No Fandom
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-19 01:00:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29742564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacearcanist/pseuds/spacearcanist
Kudos: 4





	1. No Other Choice

It was all a bit of a blur.

The conscription.

Them shaving his head.

The training.

As he rode the train towards the spot where he was supposed to meet up with his squad, Proxi couldn’t help but recall the shooting range lessons. They didn’t have much time to teach him properly, and for that, he was secretly thankful, cause he couldn’t really imagine himself actually taking someone else’s life.

He had stashed the gun they gave him in his backpack in a futile attempt to distract himself, but he could feel it moving every time the train did a small jump. He imagined it going off and shooting him in the back. Maybe that would be for the best. He was going to die out there anyways.

* * *

Proxi watched the train disappear into the horizon. Why’d he even gotten off? He could have stayed. Ran away. Gotten on a boat. Taken his chances. They wouldn’t have the resources to go after him of all people.

Yet he’d gotten off. And he was now meeting Sergeant Aimee. She’d sent him a letter prior to his arrival for some reason. It was nice. The short haired blonde girl seemed his age, yet…. somehow older. She had an air of confidence and determination about her, which made Proxi feel incredibly inadequate by comparsion.

She didn’t seem to mind that he mostly looked at the ground as she introduced him to the rest of the squad. A moody guy polishing his gun that, a bit annoyed by the pair interrupting him, introduced himself as Prateek. A lean guy called Nick that looked at Aimee like a puppy. A guy with a bird’s nest for a hair staring off into space that didn’t bother telling Proxi his name. Aimee didn’t seem to find this unusual as she moved on to the others.

After he’d been formally introduced, Aimee spoke up:

“Okay, so that should be all! You got any questions?”

Proxi’s heart stopped for a bit as he went over the words he meant to say in his head. He knew it was a tough sell, but he had to try.

“Um, yeah, I have one. You mentioned in your letter that we don’t have… a medic?”

Aimee’s expression grew grim.

“…Yeah. I begged the HQ to give us one but… there’s only six of us, I think we’re one of the smallest squads out there.

So I asked for more people and they only sent you, which, again, not enough for them to give us a medic.“

She lowered her voice.

“Not to ruin the mood, but if you could avoid getting shot, that would be great. I think I know how to stitch wounds, but…. never done it on a real person.”

Proxi took a breath as he repeated the words one last time in his head.

“That’s exactly what I wanted to talk to you about. My grandma, she was a nurse. I spent my teenage years living with her, she taught me everything she knows. I could patch people up for you.”

The most boldfaced lie of his life. He did know how to stitch wounds, but that was the long and the short of it. The book he’d stolen from the library in his hometown that was currently in his backpack was his last hope of actually being able to save his squadmates from dying.

Aimee’s eyes widened then narrowed as she looked Proxi up and down.

“There’s a catch, isn’t it?”

Proxi grew pale as he swallowed.

“I’m……. a horrible shooter. I can’t…. kill. Even when I try. Even when it’s a dummy. I just…. can’t bring myself to pull the trigger.”

Aimee grew silent as she mulled his offer over. An uncomfortable amount of time passed until a voice broke the silence.

“Can’t shoot. In a **war?”**

Proxi and the Sergeant turned towards the voice which belonged to the gun-polishing Prateek. The latter locked eyes with the newcomer and continued.

“So you’re gonna be a dead weight 99% of the time? Just running around, trying not to get shot while we do the real work? And when one of us gets shot cause we lack firepower, you’re gonna save our life, sure, but then we’re crippled for life at worst or a dead weight like you for a few weeks at best.”

Proxi couldn’t really mutter anything back at him. His window of opportunity - shattered before his very eyes. He was right. Even medics could shoot.

“Back off the newbie, Chauhan.”

Aimee’s authorative voice echoed through the tent camp. Her and Prateek kept eye contact for a few seconds, before the latter grunted and resumed polishing his gun. The Sergeant moved her gaze to Proxi.

“….Okay. We have a deal. Don’t make me regret it.”

Proxi’s heartbeat slowed down to normal. He nodded as he ran off to set up his tent.

* * *

Soon, it was time for dinner. Right off the bat, he could tell that his squad was……weird. Prateek was stabbing his food like it had personally burned down his house, Nick paid more attention to the Sergeant’s plate than his own and the grenadier whose name he **still** didn’t know didn’t eat at all. Proxi, on the other hand, inhaled his food as fast as he could and retreated to his tent, immediately taking out the book from his backpack and beginning to read it. Complicated medical terms went in one ear and out the other but he was determined. The Sergeant had given him a chance, and, despite his squad being mostly made out of people that unquestionably belonged to the loony bin, he didn’t want them to die. So he’d do his best.

He had no other choice.


	2. Fucking Vulture

The bullet zoomed a few inches away from Prateek’s ear, making him instinctively drop to the ground behind the makeshift barricade. Cursing under his breath, he stumbled back on his feet, scanning his surroundings for the shooter he’d overlooked. Spotting him fast, he shot at the middle-aged man, missing his shoulder by an inch. Fuck.

Dodging behind the barricade again, the 20-year-old took a moment to search for his squadmates. After a few seconds of looking, the only one he could spot was the deranged grenadier with the bird’s nest on his head who hadn’t muttered one word since he’d arrived. Oh. And of course. Him.

**_BANG!_ **

The sound of a bullet hitting the barricade snapped Prateek out of it. Ducking out of cover, he took another shot at the enemy, this time missing by a little more than three inches. Muttering out a prayer to Ares as he ducked back, he couldn’t help but look at the oh-so-brilliant “medic” Sarge brought in.

And, of course, there he was, not having moved in the slightest since the battle began. Just like a fucking statue. A gravestone.  **His** gravestone. Prateek spat on the ground as he reloaded. The shivering coward hiding in the ruins of a house was as much of a soldier as Prateek was a burlesque dancer.

……That still wasn’t right, Prateek was sure he could do a decent job at burlesque if he tried. This guy, though? Only a complete nutjob would allow him anywhere near th-

His train of thought stopped as he realised the other man was looking directly at him. The two met eyes for a second, and Prateek’s face involuntarily turned red before he quickly jumped out of cover, almost tripping on his own feet, and taking a shot that ended up striking closer to the grenadier than his target. 

“ **FUCK** ”

Prateek ducked back behind cover only to see the medic still staring at him. What, was he waiting for him to get shot or something? Oh, he’d probably  **love** that. The only guy that could see through his little draft dodging parlor trick - dead on the fourth day of the job. Wonderful. Hell, Sarge would probably love it too. She’d be able to make a case for a  **competent** medic. One with a gun and all.

**_BANG!_ **

**_BANG!_ **

And the big loser? Prateek. As always. He remembered his parents telling him about the infamous War To End All Wars that happened before he was born. Quenching Ares’s thirst for blood once and for all, allowing humanity to prosper. Studying tactics and warfare so your children can study poetry and music. What a fucking joke.

**_BANG!_ **

**_BANG!_ **

He’d die out here. Maybe even today. And for what? For the petty conflict of a bunch of men in suits who’d never even done half of what he’d done today. And never would.

**_BANG!_ **

**_BANG!_ **

This was getting tiring. He didn’t even know how much ammo he had left. The rest of the squad was as good as dead for all he knew, and he was stuck with the most elusive target in the world, a sociopath and a coward with the weirdest name he’d ever heard.

**_BANG!_ **

**_BANG!_ **

Like, seriously, who the fuck went by Proxi? Did his parents hate him? Was he committing fraud? If he was committing fraud, why was he even here? Reloading, Prateek looked at the medic again, meeting his determined hazel eyes he could somehow make out despite the distance between the two. Proxi had been staring at him for the past few minutes.

“….fucking  _vulture_ ”

**_BANG!_ **

The enemy’s shot bounced off the crumbling barricade. Thirteenth bullet. That was Prateek’s cue. Prateek ducked out of cover, ready to take advantage of his opponent reloading his weapon. Pointing his pistol at his crouching opponent, he-

**_BANG!_ **

A bullet pierced through Prateek’s thigh, sending a wave of blinding pain through his lower body. Reinforcements had come, but not on his side. Time slowed down as the newly arrived enemy soldier, a blonde guy his age, smiled grimly, pointing his gun towards Prateek’s stomach to finish the job.

Closing his eyes, Prateek quickly muttered a prayer and just waited to be put out of his misery.

**_clink._ **

A grenade landing next to the blonde soldier.

#  BOOM!

The explosion sent Prateek flying, landing on his back, another wave of blinding pain spreading through his body. Grunting, he lied there for a second before trying to get up, an attempt that only succeeded in widening his bullet wound.

Fuck. Fuck. FUCK! He was done for. That was it. He’d just bleed out here. Probably not even get a proper bu-

Suddenly, Prateek could feel someone grab him from behind and start to drag him. Holding back tears from the pain, he tried turning his head to look at the dragger to no success.

“Don’t move, it’ll make it worse.” - said Proxi, Prateek feeling a slight tinge of panic in his voice.

The wounded soldier grunted again as the medic dragged him back behind the barricade.

“I’m…  **ARGH!** ….pretty sure it can’t get any worse.”

Proxi took a breath as he laid Prateek on the ground and put his backpack under his head after taking out his medkit. He took a look at the wound and sighed in relief.

“It’ll all be fine. It’s a thigh wound, you got really lucky.”

“So did you, huh?”

Proxi stayed silent, taking out some bandages.

“Okay, I’m gonna lift your leg, this is gonna hurt a bit.”

And he did, and it did. Somehow, Prateek resisted the urge to scream out in pain, for which he was grateful.

Despite Proxi’s hands trembling as if there was no tomorrow, he worked quite fast and soon, the wound was tightly wrapped up.

“Okay, you got  **really** lucky. The bullet went straight through.”

Proxi pointed at the bandages.

“This is a bit of a temporary solution, but it should work. Now, we need to get you back to camp, you can’t afford to move that leg more than necessary.

Prateek sighed.

“We won’t make it. I can’t run in this state which means that we won’t get far before someone fills us up with holes.”

“I…..I could carry you?”

Prateek’s face reddened. He coughed, raising an eyebrow.

“ **Could** you?” 

“Um… I could try?” - Proxi said, reddening a little bit, avoiding Prateek’s gaze.

#  BOOM!

“What the-”

# BOOM!

# BOOM!

# BOOM!

“WHAT’S HAPPENING?” - Prateek screamed out.

Proxi stumbled on his feet, his eyes widening in horror.

# BOOM!

“IT’S…. IT’S THAT GRENADIER! HE’S…. HE’S ENGAGING WITH EVERYONE! SHOOTING AT.. HE HAS TWO GRENADE LAUNCHERS?”

# BOOM!

“HE’S GONNA GET HIMSELF KILLED! EVERYONE IS COMING AT HIM!”

# BOOM!

# BOOM!

Proxi began breathing quickly, trying to calm himself down. He turned towards Prateek.

# BOOM!

“WHAT DO WE DO? I CAN’T GET TO HIM!! HE’S GONNA DIE!”

Anxious but determined a few minutes ago, Proxi was now reduced to a trembling mess. Prateek couldn’t help but feel bad for him. The wounded soldier took a breath and shouted:

“WE RUN. NOW”

Proxi grew pale.

“BUT- WE CAN’T LEAVE HIM BEHIND!”

# BOOM!

“WE CAN’T GET TO HIM! THIS IS OUR CHANCE! WE HAVE TO GO! NOW!”

“B-B-BUT”

# BOOM!

“ **PROXI**!”

Prateek reached out, grabbing Proxi’s hand. The two’s eyes met, and the former could feel the medic’s fear. He’d never gone through something like this before.

“ **PLEASE**.”

The two stayed like that for what seemed like forever before Proxi nodded.

* * *

Stumbling back to camp, Prateek and Proxi were welcomed by Sergeant Aimee who seemed to mumble an apology once every three sentences. The rest of the squad had had to retreat and apparently their radios had malfunctioned, leaving them and the grenadier to fend for themselves.

“…..So he’s dead?”

“…Yeah, we think so. He couldn’t have possibly survived getting swarmed by a hundred people.”

“……Fuck. That’s a shame.”

Sergeant Aimee closed her eyes, as she exhaled.

“I’m very glad you two are okay.”

She put a hand on Prateek’s shoulder.

“You rest. I’ll contact HQ. We need more people so this won’t happen again.”

She then looked at Proxi, patting him on the shoulder with a small smile.

“Good job.”

* * *

As Proxi helped Prateek to his tent, gently helping him lay down, the latter released a sigh of relief he had been holding for a few hours.

“Okay, all you have to do now is rest. I’ll bring you food later, and I’ll see if I can get you some crutches.”

He moved to exit the tent when suddenly Prateek spoke up:

“Proxi?”

The medic turned to look at him, curious.

“Um…….” - Prateek found himself hesitating - “Thank you.”

Proxi sighed and smiled.

“You’re very welcome.”


End file.
